


Jaime's Philosophy

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, One Shot, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Modern AU one shot in which Jaime attempts to use poetry to win over Brienne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jaime's Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downlookingup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/gifts), [JustAGirl24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/gifts), [Wontkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wontkins/gifts), [Volant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volant/gifts), [Anyone Else I Missed in Chat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anyone+Else+I+Missed+in+Chat).



Jaime looked at his poetry project partner, his best friend, his wench, his Brienne, sitting at the desk in her dorm room. Her room, where he spent most of his time. Her room, where he would crawl in bed beside her at the end of the day, curling his body to hers. Her room, where he belonged. He looked at her, and he wondered how she could be such a complete and total idiot. He grabbed his book of poems and began reading aloud, “‘When you are old and gray and full of sleep, nodding by the fire, take down this White Book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look, your eyes had once, and of their blue so deep.’”

“Jaime, that’s not how it goes. You’re reading it wrong,” Brienne huffed adorably.

“I’m just changing a few words, just a few things to make it better, more meaningful,” Jaime argued as he stretched out on her bed. “‘How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true, but one man loved the warrior’s soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face.’”

“It’s ‘pilgrim’s soul’ not ‘warrior’s soul.’ If you’re going to read Yeats, read it right.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Your changes aren’t going to _improve_ it.”

“Fine then. How about this one,’Whenas in silks my Brienne goes, then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows, the liquefaction of her clothes.’” He raised his brows at her, wondering if she’d take the hint.

“It’s Julia, not Brienne.” She scrunched her face in displeasure. “What is Houseman saying anyway? Melting her clothes? That’s creepy. We are supposed to pick a romantic love poem. Melting clothes doesn’t seem romantic.”

Jaime begged to differ as he imagined Brienne’s clothes melting away.

She flipped through the pages of her book. “Listen to this, ‘And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom—’” She looked up at him. “Why are all these women wearing dresses anyway? And why are they in a strange bedroom? Is Williams writing about a one night stand in a motel? That’s not very romantic.”

“Agreed. Random hookups in motels rooms are not romantic. It’s more romantic when people fall in love after they have known each other a very long time.” He nodded at her. “People who are friends, _best_ friends, it’s romantic when they fall in love.”

She shrugged. “Sure. I can see that. Do you have another suggestion?”

He sighed and flipped to one of the carefully marked pages in his book. “How about this one by Alfred Bryan, page eighty-two. ‘Enthralled.’ Read it to me.”

She found the poem in her own book and started to read. “‘Teach me to sin—, in love’s forbidden ways, for you can make all passion pure; the magic lure of your sweet eyes...” she blushed and trailed off, looking everywhere but at Jaime. “That’s not—I mean, that’s more—”

“What’s the matter, wench? I liked how that sounded. Read it again, only this time add my name. Say, ‘Teach me to sin, Jaime.’” He grinned.

“My name is Brienne.” She rolled her eyes. “You sin just fine on your own.”

“That’s why I should teach you. I’m such a good sinner and you need to learn.” He let his gaze start at her knees, move up her thighs, flicker over her waist only to stop at her breasts. He thought he could see the barest hint of nipple beneath her shirt. He bit his lip and was about to move towards her when he heard a distinct fluttering and felt a near painful thunk on his forehead. He picked up her book where it had landed on the bed beside him. “How are we going to get anything done if you throw your book at me?”

“How are we going to get anything done if you keeping goofing off?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know I want to do well in Dr. Stark’s class. It’s important to me.”

He raised his hands in supplication. “Fine, no more goofing off. Come over here and we’ll choose a poem together.”

She grabbed her pen and notebook and moved towards the bed. “Scoot over.”

“There’s plenty of room.”

“There’d be more room if you weren’t lying in the middle of my bed. Now scoot over,” she ordered.

“Fine,” he said as he scooched six inches to the right.

She sat down next to him, put one hand on the side of his leg and the other on his hip and gave a mighty shove, moving him fully to one side of her bed. “There.” She leaned back onto the headboard.

He grinned at her and flipped to another marked page in his book. “I think I’ve found a poem you’ll like. ‘Because I liked you better, than suits this man to say, it irked you, and I promised, to throw the thought away.’”

“What? So he liked her and it irritated her and he just stopped liking her?” Brienne asked, searching for the poem in her own book. “Why would you think I’d like that?”

“Let me read the last bit. ‘Halt by the headstone naming, the heart no longer stirred, and say the knight that loved you, was one that kept his word.’” Jaime turned to stare into her big blue eyes, moving a bit closer to her.

“That’s awful, Jaime.”

“What? So you think it’s not important for a man to keep his word? I thought you were all about honor and oaths, Brienne Tarth. Maybe you’re not the woman I thought you were,” he said.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. This woman pushed him away and he remained true to her? Until he died? Awful. I don’t want to choose a tragic poem.”

“Fine. What did they say in that movie? That poetry was all about wooing women? How does this sound?” He turned to her, stared into her eyes and whispered the words he’d memorized. “‘Come with me and be my Love, and we will all the pleasures prove, that sand and beaches, sea and field, and all the island Tarth does yield.’”

She blinked at him twice before turning away, cheeks flaming. “Isn’t there a response to that one? Something about how the woman he was trying to woo thought he was lying? A nymph and a shepherd?” She flipped frantically through her book.

He grabbed the book from her hands and tossed it over his shoulder. She looked up at him. “Walter Raleigh didn’t know that sometimes a woman just needs to let herself be woo-ed and not worry about growing up and growing cold.” He rolled over to hover above her.

Brienne pressed herself back into the pillows. “What are you doing, Jaime?” She braced her hands on his forearms.

“I. Am. Trying. To. Woo. You,” he ground out in frustration.

She furrowed her brow in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

He pressed himself closer. She slid further down the bed. “I signed us up for this stupid poetry class. I’ve been reading romantic poetry to you for weeks. You’re just too stupid to notice.”

He could almost feel the heat from her blush. “Jaime, are you saying that you want—”

He leaned in close to her, barely an inch between their faces. “What I’m saying, Brienne, is this, ‘And the sunlight clasps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea, what is all this course work worth, if thou kiss not me?’”

Her grip loosened on his forearms. She bit her lip. Her eyes darted from left to right and back to meet his eyes once more. “You want me to—” she began haltingly.

He ran his thumb along her cheek. “I’ll give you poems, gold, sapphires. Whatever you want, Brienne. Just kiss me.”

So she did.

**Author's Note:**

> In chat, I mentioned I had this idea of Jaime using poetry to woo Brienne. Then I proceeded to pick out certain poems and outline fic, which I do often. These are usually fics I have no intention of ever writing like the massage parlor fic and the hairband fic. Most times, it's just ideas, but this one took root.
> 
> So to the ladies and gentleman of chat, thank you for inspiring me to write this little piece. I hope it meets your expectations.
> 
> Each of the poems quoted or referenced is linked below. My Jaime made little changes along the way. My apologies to the poets.
> 
> William Butler Yeats, [When You Are Old](http://allpoetry.com/When-You-Are-Old)  
> Robert Herrick, [Upon Julia’s Clothes](http://allpoetry.com/Upon-Julia's-Clothes)  
> William Carlos Williams, [Arrival](http://allpoetry.com/poem/8501097-Arrival-by-William-Carlos-Williams)  
> Alfred Bryan, [Enthralled](http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/enthralled.html)  
> A.E. Houseman, [ Because I Liked You](http://www.poemtree.com/poems/BecauseILikedYou.htm)  
> Christopher Marlowe, [The Passionate Shepherd to His Love](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173941)  
> Sir Walter Raleigh, [The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174205)  
> Percy Bysshe Shelley, [ Love's Philosophy](http://allpoetry.com/Love%27s-Philosophy)


End file.
